Who We Used To Be
by Corpsegirl93
Summary: It's the 21st century, and University student Emily has been having some very weird dreams. What do they mean? Will they ever fade? And who is that mysterious young man?
1. Introduction!

Introduction:

I fall asleep. Then I wake up. I'm back here. Again.

I know where I am, I've seen this place before, but _where_ is it?

I know it's in my mind – this is my frequent dream – but if this place actually exists, where is it on Earth? The sky is black so it must be night-time…no, it's not. There's a man in his dressing gown, standing by his bedroom window, sipping something from a china cup. He sees me, greets me and cries "Good morning!"

So, it's definitely daytime, but why is the sky so dark? Question answered: I must be underground. The floor is mucky. There's a musky smell about the place and when I look at the sky, I see these thick, white tentacles curling about in the sky, wrapping around an invisible cocoon.

Must be tree roots. That would explain the 'underground' theory.

There are buildings all around me. They're old, peeling at the walls, patches of faded paint dotted all over them like an abstract painting. Their doors are wooden, cracked around the hinges and always creaking whenever they move barely an inch. Where is this place?

WHAT is this place? Some kind of purgatory? Seems like it. But what did I do to get here? The only sin worth purgatory that I've committed was missing a deadline for an essay.

It's like the place between life and death. There is life, but it's dead. I'm surrounded by living dead people – skeletons and zombies – but not like the ones in the films. No one's trying to eat my flesh. Not that I have a lot myself.

I'm dead, too.

I'm blue all over. Every inch of my skin is pale blue, my finger nails cracked and muddy – how or why, I don't know.

My hair has changed. It used to be silky, soft and knot-free. Now I feel like I'm wearing a sweeping broom on my head. Dry, tangled, manky – and blue!

Is everything about me blue?

Not quite. My clothes aren't. Though they have changed too. I was in my favourite fluffy pyjamas just moments ago when I turned the bedside lamp off. And now I'm wearing this…this…gown, of some sort. Dirty, torn, rotten. And high heeled shoes, worn-out white with patches of dirt splattered on them. Was I running through mud and rain?

OK, breathe Emily.

Why else would I be surrounded by dim-coloured buildings, and antique wooden coffins? I must be dreaming. What else could it be? No, this isn't a dream, it's a nightmare. This isn't pleasant!

I'm dreaming. I must be. Either that, or incredibly drunk. No I'm not. I had a quiet night in with Charlotte, some films on the Internet, and a take-away pizza, strictly no alcohol.

I remember ordering the pizza. Margarita with extra cheese, half with chicken and red onions, the other with extra cheese and no meat – because Charlotte's a vegetarian – and a side of garlic bread. And it was delicious! Then we watched some cheap, low-budget horror films on the Internet, searched YouTube for random animal videos, laughed our heads off and didn't get to bed until gone midnight.

It's just a dream. I'll wake up in a few hours, get dressed, have some breakfast, watch the news and go to my lectures, write an essay, plan dinner, eat, gossip with Charlotte, watch some TV then go to bed. Just like I do every other day.

Ugh, I need to get out more. What I need is to get rid of this dream. This is the sixth time this month I've had the same dream – so far! Why?! I don't know!

Wouldn't be asking the questions if I knew.

Just try and get some sleep, Emily. It's just a dream.

Isn't it?


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One:

Gingerbread latte. Or hazelnut? What about vanilla? No, too sweet. And what about cake? Or a biscuit? Victoria sponge? Mince pie? Lemon drizzle cake? Custard cream? Bourbon biscuit? Ugh, decisions!

"Made your mind up?" Charlotte asked.

"Nope" I answered, shaking my head. I kept my eyes firmly peeled on the selection of sweet treats in front of me – talk about temptation. The cashier – who was called 'Melissa' judging by her name badge – was looking at me impatiently, almost like I was her last order before she had to whisk off to meet her 'hot new boyfriend'.

She had that look in her eye, I could tell.

"It's coffee, not Sophie's Choice" Charlotte sighed, picking out the coins from her purse.

Charlotte's my flatmate, and has been for the past eighteen months. She and I met at the University's Open Day, got on like a house on fire, and were reunited when we began our first year. Her wild red curly hair, 5 foot 8 inches stature and energetic attitude seemed to somehow match my brunette, 5 foot 7 inches, creativity and we've been great friends since. We're now second years, sharing a flat, buying coffee from the local shop, people watching in our spare time and always laughing and joking. That's what I love about Charlotte. Her ability to find laughter and joy in the smallest of things – really picks me up when I've had a bad day.

Charlotte is learning to be an actress, and I'm learning to be a professional singer song-writer. No, I don't want to be like Britney Spears. I just want to write music, sing to my heart's content and play a piano til my fingers rot to the bone.

But back to reality. Right now we're standing in the local coffee shop, in the middle of winter, deciding what hot beverage and sweet cake is going to fill our stomachs and warm our chilling bones, though you'd think the millions of winter layers are doing that already.

Long sleeved top, thick sweater, winter coat with faux fur-trimmed hood, jeans with tights on underneath, winter boots, scarf, hat and woollen gloves and we're still cold!

It's December, that's why. We're due back home in about ten days, but for me, Charlotte and a few other friends, we're staying at University for Christmas. My parents despise the cold, so they're away around the world on a Caribbean cruise, with my permission that I'll happily spend the festive season with friends. It would make a change. It's exciting! I'll cook my first turkey, roast the potatoes, pour the gravy and set the pudding on fire. Then eat the leftover turkey in sandwiches and complain about weight gain once January sets in. Ah, adult life.

I'm straying from the point! I'll get back to reality.

"What are you having?" I asked, seeing if it might inspire my taste buds.

"Mocha and a custard cream" she chimed in return, handing the correct change to Melissa.

"Again? Aren't you sick of it by now?"

"True love never fades."

"Your true love is mochas and custard cream biscuits? God, how do you keep your figure?" I moaned in slight disgust. Charlotte always had a high metabolism. She could eat junk food for a fortnight and still wear a ball gown, like a supermodel. Not that I was jealous, but sometimes a girl wishes she can eat all she wants and keep her figure without regrets, and Charlotte had that. Still, I was a size 12, proud of it. I refused to be stick thin with no appetite. I love my food too much, I won't deny it.

"I don't. Winter layers just conceal the hidden fat." Ah! The hidden secret!

"Look, if you don't order soon, I'll order for you." Charlotte added.

"No need, I know what I want. Gingerbread latte and a mince pie please. Seems festive enough" I replied, pulling out a five pound note from my jeans pocket, little bits of lint getting stuck from my winter gloves.

"At last!" Charlotte sighed. "Thought you'd never get there."

I merely glanced at Charlotte, grinning cheekily as I watched her roll her eyes with relief. We watched the barista making our coffees and scooping our cakes in to separate bags like it was a magic trick and we were little kids. Ultimately, we were. Always giggling, smiling and having more fun than others would permit, but we didn't care.

We left the coffee shop behind and decided for the warming walls of our flat, half a mile away. The cakes disappeared before we were two metres away from the coffee shop door. The coffee's usually lasted until a few yards before our front door. Charlotte had started debating over tonight's entertainment, once our essays had been written and we had found the energy to clean the flat from the previous night's take-away food binge.

"Edward Scissorhands or The Nightmare Before Christmas?" Charlotte asked, swirling her coffee cup in minute circles, her other hand in her coat pocket, keeping it warm from the cold.

"Nightmare. I want to sing along to the songs. 'I am the one hiding your bed, teeth ground sharp and eyes glowing red. I am the one hiding under your stairs, fingers like snakes and spiders in my hair.'" I began chanting, the catchy tune stuck in my head.

"Yes, thank you Danny Elfman" Charlotte responded sarcastically.

"And what about dinner?" I asked.

"There's some leftover pasta bolognaise and a slice of lasagne from two nights ago?"

"And pudding?"

"Chocolate cookies with tea. What else?" she responded.

I stifled a giggle before a yawn escaped my mouth.

"Tired?" Charlotte asked.

"Yeah. Didn't get too much sleep last night."

"But you went to bed at half twelve. And didn't get up until half past ten?" Charlotte looked confused, but I knew she'd figure it out in a few seconds.

"It's the nightmare again, isn't it?"

"Wouldn't call it a nightmare. More of a bad dream."

"The same one?"

"Always is. Can't understand why." I answered, catching sight of our front door, just a few metres away. I could feel the tempting warmth inside just looking at it.

"Maybe you watched something that really spooked you? I read in a book once that your dreams can be based on what you watched, read or listened to the night of the dream. Ring any bells?"

"Nah. I'm alright with scary stuff. The dream doesn't relate to what I've been watching. It's the total opposite. Anyway, I don't wanna talk about it. Let's talk about something else."

"Like your party!" Charlotte exclaimed.

"Oh, that."

"Well, don't sound too ecstatic about it" she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Sorry, the caffeine hasn't kicked in yet" I responded, swirling my latte a little more.

"So who have you invited?"

"Uh…" I paused to think. "You, obviously. The girls from my classes, other students that are nearby. Oh yeah, and that dancer girl. Victoria."

"Victoria? Remind me." Charlotte asked.

"Victoria Everglot. Dancing girl. 5 foot 3, light brown hair, always in a bun, wears a lot of pale colours and Lycra leggings. Fantastic figure!"

"Can't say she rings a bell. How do you know her if she's a dancer and you're a singer?" Charlotte asked me.

"Her cousin is doing my course. She came along to one of the recordings two weeks ago, we got talking, we share some similarities and favourite films, etc. Anyway, she added me on Facebook and I invited her a few days ago. You'd like her. She loves Benedict Cumberbatch."

"She can get her hands off him, he's mine!" Charlotte joked.

"Yeah right, and Nicholas Hoult will be proposing to me, any day now" I added, catching sight of our flat, appearing from across the road. I swallowed the last of my latte, savouring the sweetness of the gingerbread syrup, and began rummaging around in my pockets for my house keys.

"I got them! How much work do you have to do?" Charlotte beamed, spontaneously flourishing them from her jeans pocket.

"One essay and a few house chores."

"House chores? The place is spotless…oh hang on, we didn't clear up from last night, did we?" I merely shook my head as Charlotte inserted her key in to the lock.

"Damn…are you volunteering to clean?"

"I'll do it anyway. I need a distraction."

"From the essay?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, knowing that it wasn't the answer.

"No, from the nightmare."

Charlotte pushed our front door open, keeping her eyes on me the whole time we entered the flat.

"Em, if this carries on, what are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"The dreams…sorry, the nightmares. If they carry on, are you going to do something about them?"

"Like what? See…a dream specialist? A therapist? Why? It's not hurting me in any way, just making me a little tired in the mornings."

"But in all seriousness…" Charlotte looked at me, her eyes like lasers, beaming in to my mind. She could tell I was scared. I was. I am! I know nothing of these dreams and what they mean, but I couldn't stand the idea of seeing a specialist. Is there such a thing as a dream therapist? I looked back at Charlotte, not leaving her gaze as I shut the front door behind us and started removing my winter coat. I answered:

"I don't know, Charlotte. I just don't know."


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

The next morning:

I woke the next morning with a fresh feeling. I'd had an undisturbed night. A nightmare free night, thank God! Just as well, lectures began at 10am, and I can't start a day with a foggy head. But my conversation with Charlotte the day before kept ringing in my head.

Even as I walked from our flat to my lecture, note books in my arms, headphones in and iPod on, winter coat and gloves attempting to keep me warm, I could still hear Charlotte's words in my head.

"_What are you going to do?"_

"_Will you do something about them?"_

"_What happens if they never stop?"_

And my answer was still the same as it was yesterday.

"_I don't know."_

Ugh! Why did nightmares have to be so stressful? They're only figments of my imagination that occur when I sleep, then I wake and it's all in the past, forgotten within seconds of re-entering reality. Except these dreams didn't. I could remember every detail of them from the very first nightmare to the latest, two nights ago.

I needed to focus. Think of something other than the dreams. My party? My lectures? Maybe watching where I was walking? I wasn't. As I then realised when I looked up briefly, too late to see another girl approaching me, her eyes on her phone, not looking where she was going. Then suddenly – WHAM! Like Titanic and the iceberg, we collided!

Her phone on the floor, my iPod now separated from my headphones and our study books everywhere! Our immediate reaction was to apologise, so we did.

"I am so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."

"It's no worry, I'm to blame. Shouldn't text whilst walking" she replied. It took us a few moments to acknowledge who we were. It wasn't until I scooped my books up and handed her phone to her when I realised who she was.

Victoria Everglot. The dancing, rosy cheeked doll. In this cold and with her complexion, she was flawless. Skin as smooth as a china dolls, mousey brown hair neatly pulled in to a bun, and a pastel pink winter coat that showed off how colourful her cheeks were. All this complimented by her furry black winter boots and navy blue designer jeans. Yep, her parents were loaded and it was reflected in their only daughter!

"Victoria!" I cried.

"Emily! Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

"It's no problem, honestly. I was in a world of my own, I wasn't concentrating."

"Ditto. You on your way to your lecture?" she asked, sliding her phone in to her coat pocket.

"Yeah, starts in about 15 minutes. You off to dance practice?" I asked.

"Yep, practicing our routine, once again." She smiled in response.

"Oh, I meant to ask you a few things" she added, snapping her fingers at the sudden thought.

"Sure, go ahead."

"What time is your party?"

"6:30 onwards. You still coming then?"

"Oh yeah, need to blow off some steam. Dance practice has been a little too stressful lately. So much pressure" she sighed, the winter air frosting her breath.

"Sorry to hear that. But yeah, 6:30. Bring your own booze."

"And on that note of bringing" she chimed.

"Yeah?"

"Can I bring a plus one? My boyfriend. He's studying here too – Art – and when I said I was going, he mentioned he'd be alone that night. Basically, I don't want to leave him whilst I flutter off to a party, so…?"

"Yeah, of course. You can bring him. As long as he respects my flat and doesn't throw up in my bedroom. Or Charlottes, she's my roommate. And she would go crazy and launch an ever-lasting vendetta if he so much pukes near her bedroom door."

"Noted. He doesn't drink, so there won't be a problem. We'll bring some food, if you need it?"

"I won't say no to that" I smiled, then checking my watch. Damn! Ten minutes til lecture, and the building was 5 minute walk away.

"Damn! I'm sorry, I gotta go Victoria. But I'll see you at the party. Tomorrow night. You know my address?"

"Yeah, still got it written down in my diary. I'll see you then" she smiled, quickly embracing me in a hug. We began walking our separate ways before something sparked in my mind. I quickly whooshed round to see Victoria disappear in to the morning December mist, and called out:

"Victoria?!"

She looked round to see me.

"Yeah?"

"What's your boyfriends name? So I can tell Charlotte." I called out, not caring if other students regarded us with a grumpy 'too-early-in-the-morning-to-be-awake' glance.

Victoria ignored the students that passed her and, clapping her hands round her mouth to call back, cried out in response:

"His name's Victor!"

Later that night:

Here we go again.

Tonight is not a nightmare free night. So, where are we starting from tonight? The streets again? Oh, no. Not this time. I'm in a large room, the ceiling high and walls cracked. There's a stage at the far end of the room, a piano to its left, tables and chairs spread all over the place. And a bar, too, equipped with tankards, stools, and beer pumps. I'm in a pub!

A nice colourful pub, with a band on the stage. A band of four skeletons, one wearing a black bowler hat and missing an eye. The other three are identical – no skin, bones as white as snow, no eyes, no organs, nothing! There's more than those four skeletons in here. There are dozens surrounding me, all the same. Some of the people here look like they've been dug fresh from the grave. Their clothes are musty, slightly faded, covered in specks of dirt, but still in good condition. They're all holding on to a drink of some sort – beer, wine, spirits – and looking towards me, smiling proudly with such delight that their remaining teeth glisten. In order to blend in and not make it obvious that I'm freaking out, I smile in return. It isn't until one corpse _bends down_ to face me, that I realise I'm kneeling on the ground.

Once again, I'm surrounded by dead people. Except one.

Lying by my knees…is a living man. A real living man! A man dressed in a smart black suit – torn on one shoulder – a brown waistcoat, dusty blue tie, shoes dampened with melted snow, his near black hair hanging limply over his face.

He has flesh, a heartbeat; I can feel his body heat as he slowly breathes. His eyes are closed in a peaceful state, stretched out across the floor like it's his own bed. Weird! What's he doing here? I go to check his pulse, to see if he is well – maybe everyone's crowding around him because he's near death and they want to see him when he wakes up? I don't know! I go to check his pulse, placing my right hand by his right leg to balance myself and stretching out my left hand to reach his….holy crap!

My left arm is skeletal! No blue skin, no rotting flesh, a little bit of faded white cloth from my elbow to wrist. Looks like it used to be a glove. That's not what took me by surprise, though. It was the gold wedding ring on my finger, glistening like a new diamond, that grabbed my attention. That wasn't there before. The last dream I had, I can't recall a wedding ring on my finger. So this is new.

Forgetting about the mans pulse, I drew my hand back and held it close to my face. Though it had no diamonds or any embellishment that dazzled me, the gold ring was beautiful. The way it caught the light had me mesmerized. It completely distracted me from my bony fingers, the corpses around me and the man on the floor…who was waking up!

His eyelids just fluttered and his fingers are twitching. I bring my hand down to my side, finally pulling away from my bedazzlement, and silently watched him as his eyes fluttered open. To my right, a skeleton dressed in a plush plum coloured velvet robe, smoking pipe in hand chimed:

"A new arrival!"

What? What did that mean? 'A new arrival'? In to the Underworld? Must be. I didn't care to think…because just then, the man clasped his eyes on me, stunned and surprised to see himself surrounded by corpses.

'Join the club pal!' I thought. He stared at me, almost enchanted. I looked back at him, gazing at his defined features. His pointy chin, his wild brown eyes, pale pink lips, and smooth skin – no facial hair or stubble. He looked to be barely past twenty years old. I decided to break the silence between us both. Gently reaching my left hand out to him, I asked softly:

"Are you alright?"

He didn't get the chance to respond. He had barely opened his mouth…before I heard this weird beeping noise, like an alarm. And suddenly…

I had woken up! My eyes were wide open, the morning sunlight breaking through my window. My alarm clock chimed, its noise had roused me from my dreams.

"Ugh, just when things were getting interesting!" I moaned.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three:

The following night:

It's official. I am now 21! No longer a child, but a young woman. I feel the same though; nothing huge has changed in the hours since I left 20 behind.

And the party is in full swing! I'm in my room at the moment, just adjusting my top. Feels a little too uncomfortable for me. The party started about 30 minutes ago. It's now nine o clock, the sound of Gerard Way's 'Action Cat' booming out the speakers in my dorm, and the pounding of footsteps dancing along to the beat.

Ugh! Nine o clock and I'm tired already. So much for that double shot of coffee two hours ago. I'm now suffering the caffeine crash.

"_Do you miss me?"_

"_Oooh!"_

"_Cos I miss you!"_

"Oh, I could listen to this song all night"…I think before Paramore starts playing. Ha ha! That's more like it!

"Aint it fun?!" Charlotte sang at my opened door. I turned to see her gripping the doorframe, half swinging like a monkey and half dancing and singing to the music, with half a bottle of cider in her left hand. Yep! She's definitely been drinking!

"You coming or what, birthday girl?!"

"Gimme 2 minutes. I need to change this top. The sequins are too itchy" I moaned.

"You look fine! Hurry up, c'mon. I think there's a guy here who wants to hook up with you" Charlotte teased, taking a swig of her cider, eyes wide to catch my attention – her most obvious sign of intoxication.

"Describe him to me" I asked, opening my wardrobe. "Close the door, would you. Don't want guys to see me change."

Charlotte rolled her eyes and shut the door behind her, drowning out the music.

"Taller than you, well-styled hair, brownish blonde colour, blue and white pin-striped shirt, well-groomed to my eye."

"What's his name?" I asked.

"Craig…I think…or Graham…or was it Justin? Shit, can't remember" she shrugged, taking another gulp of cider.

"Does he study here?" I asked, picking out a white sweetheart top, with traces of lace and pearls across the bodice. Sleeveless, of course, and just a little bit sexy with my dark blue skirt and silver heels.

"Think so…yeah…what does he study…astrology! Bit of a fit geek" Charlotte giggled infectiously. I smiled as she plonked herself at the foot of my bed, seeing her catch sight of me change my top.

"Does it look good?" I asked Charlotte. She didn't reply. She simply stared at me, wide eyed like a dog faced with a mountain of tennis balls.

"I'll take that as a yes" I muttered. "OK, ready!"

Moments later, we were shutting the door behind us and re-entering the party. Some cheered as they saw me emerge, some just stared (not at my face though) and others cried "Happy Birthday!" I smiled in return; I knew they wouldn't hear me say "thank you" not with the music at THIS volume! Charlotte wandered off in to the crowd – there must've been 40 people here, in this tiny place. All crammed together like sheep.

I managed to squeeze through and get to the kitchen, where all the drinking was taking place. I caught sight of Marcus, one of my fellow music buddies, looking around confused, a bottle of white wine in his hand.

"Em! Where's the cork screw?" he asked, seeing me approach.

"In the sink" I called. "You having fun?"

"Yeah!" he replied, trying to get the cork out of the bottle. "You?!"

"Yeah!"

"You changed!"

"You noticed?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah, course! That top looks _**way**_ better than the other one. No offence."

"You're gay; I take it as a compliment." I smiled, grabbing a cup and pouring some white wine in.

"Seen anyone nice yet?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same question".

"Nope! All taken! Or douchebags!"

"Nah, who needs men?! I got you and Charlotte."

"I'll drink to that!" Marcus clinked his bottle with my cup, taking a generous swig from it.

"Mind you" he added "have you seen Victoria Everglot's boyfriend?"

"No. Didn't know they arrived."

"'Bout ten minutes ago. God, how she got him, I'll never know."

"Why?"

"He's gorgeous! Wouldn't be surprised if he was model."

"And taken. Lucky Victoria" I sighed. Don't get me wrong, being single was great! But every now and then, a girl can wish for some male companionship…in a matter of speaking.

Uh, friendship and company, not sex!

"Better go and see them both. Gotta be a good hostess" I made my excuses for leaving Marcus, and starting heading back to the living room, where the party was in full swing.

Finding Victoria wasn't hard. She was helping herself to the party snacks, right next to the kitchen door so I saw her as soon as I left. She caught sight of me, casually munching on a carrot stick and smiled.

She was looking gorgeous! She was wearing a tight knee-length sexy purple dress, complete with black platform heels and her hair was up in its usual bun. Come to think of it, I'd never seen her with her hair down. Weird!

"Em! Happy Birthday!" she cried, opening her arms to hug me.

"Hey! Thank you" I smiled, hugging her in response. "Having fun?"

"So far. Only just got here. Been looking for the drinks."

"Right through here" I showed her through to the kitchen. "Is Victor here?"

"Yeah, left him with his classmates. A few art boys here tonight."

"He's studying Art?" I asked, intrigued.

"Yeah. Fine art, paintings and that." She shrugged, grabbing a bottle of some sort of vodka mixer drink.

"Wow. Never known a guy to be interested in Art."

"You know much about it?" Victoria asked, popping the cap off her bottle and reaching for a bottle of beer.

"Just from A Level at school. Abstract, cubism, pop art, Vincent Van Gogh, Andy Warhol and Lichtenstein."

"More than I know. You haven't met him, have you?" she popped off the cap of the beer bottle – must be Victor's drink.

I shook my head. I caught sight of Marcus, who raised an eyebrow when Victor was mentioned. This was going to be fun, and a little torture. Meeting someone else's boyfriend who was stunning and gorgeous and being reminded how long you've been single. And making you wonder "why?"

"No, I haven't."

"I'll introduce you. He needs to meet the birthday girl."

She led me out of the kitchen, weaving in, out and around the other party guests. We caught a few glimpses off of some guys, but by the time they could give us a smile, we were long gone.

I didn't need to see which guy Victor was. It was so obvious. His back was turned to me, but I could tell by the creases in his shirt that he was pretty well-toned. Maybe a little skinny, but Marcus was right. He was very well-groomed. His hair was trimmed so neatly and his shirt was crisp and clean. He held himself so proudly – great posture! Damn! Lucky Victoria!

But anyway, Victoria went ahead and greeted him with his drink. She smiled to him and looked in my direction. I couldn't hear her over the music, but I could see her lips forming the words: 'birthday girl' and 'meet her'. He nodded briefly and took his drink from Victoria's hands. Oh, here we go. Now to be boasted about how good-looking he is, just by turning around…

He turned around to face me…

He…

No!

It…can't be!

"Victor. This is Emily, the birthday girl."

That face! I'd seen it before…and I knew where. I was getting an incredible sensation of déjà vu, except this time…he wasn't wearing a torn suit, and he wasn't lying on the ground.

And I wasn't a dead bride.

It was him! The man from my dreams! The music seemed to stop; it drowned out and became total silence, and all the dancers and students disappeared, leaving just to two of us together.

I realised just how much my mouth was ajar, and how wide my eyes were. I was in shock!

Could it be?

"Emily" he muttered, smiling.

"Victor" I said, not sure what else to say. He offered a hand forward, his eyes never leaving mine. They were almost burning in to my skull, like he was trying to read my mind ad know what I was thinking,

Good luck! Even I didn't know what to think.

I'm being faced by a fictitious man that I've seen only in my dreams.

"Great to meet you." He broke the silence between us. GOD! This was awkward! I had to find an excuse to get away and think to myself.

"Drink!" I randomly blurted out. Realising that I'd left my cup of wine behind in the kitchen – though it was empty – I decided to go back and fetch it.

"Uh, we've got one, thanks" Victoria butted in.

"Yes! No! I meant for me. I need a drink…not tipsy enough…yet!" I smiled awkwardly and ran away, leaving Victor and Victoria staring at me like some sort of lunatic.

Breathe! Breathe! Before I knew it, I was back in the kitchen, leaning over the sink like I might vomit. Thankfully, I didn't.

"You OK babe?" Marcus asked. He was still in the kitchen?

"Fine" I lied.

"Too much to drink?"

"Something like that" again lied.

"Water?"

"Please!" I gasped, seeing he was already holding out a cup of water to me. I took it, swallowed it all in one go! I felt like I was hyperventilating.

I stared in to the sink, finding all the empty cups and odds bits of cutlery (why, I had no idea?! We cleaned it all earlier) but I didn't look at any of them. All I could see was Victor's face, looking back at me like…like…I don't know…god I was so confused! I needed some air.

Five minutes later, I was outside, sitting on a random bench a few feet away from the dorm entrance. The music was still pounding away, its beat resonating through the whole building and through my body. The cheers and rubbish karaoke singing of my party guests could be heard from miles away. I leaned forward, cradling my head in my hands and breathing deeply. Man, it was freezing. Didn't feel it, though. It pricked the edge of my skin but it didn't freeze me to the bone. I sat there like it was a sunny summer's day, not caring for the looks I got from any passers-by.

Eventually, I calmed down and was plucking up the courage to walk back inside and see the party through, without facing Victor or Victoria for the rest of the night. Now it was nearly ten o clock. How many more hours left until everyone starting piling out? How many hours until Charlotte and I got to sleep? We'd have to clean the place before bed, and that would take time, and a lot of bin bags! I reckoned 5 hours, at the most. Ugh! So glad I don't have a lecture tomorrow.

His face! Ugh, go away!

But there was no denying it. It was him. Victor was the man from my dreams. The only difference being the time, place and clothes. Otherwise, his features were perfect in every way. But the way he looked at me. It was haunting, mesmerizing, and a little seductive. The way he looked at me in every possible way. Every inch of my face, my hair, my body, like he was comparing me to…to what? What was thinking?

I know now what I'm thinking. The cold has got to me, and now I'm freezing my arse off! Damn this short skirt, and why did I not wear tights?!

Taking a deep breath in, I mustered up the courage to drag my body off the bench and started walking inside…

And there he was! Walking out of the doors, heading towards me, his eyes focused on me, something in his hand.

"Emily" he said.

I froze on the spot. I couldn't think of anything else to do. I couldn't run away or go back to the bench. My only option was stand still and act calm. He approached me, urgency in his eyes and in his voice.

"Hey Victor" I said, casually.

"Your friend Marcus said you were out here."

"Did he? Oh yeah, course" I smiled weakly.

"Um…listen…I want to talk to you…about something."

"OK" I said, suspiciously. At that point, he held out what he had in his hand. A small neon green piece of paper. To be precise, one of the post-it notes that Charlotte and I stick on the fridge as reminders, or for fun.

"It's my number" he said.

"Your number?" I asked suspiciously.

"Yep" he nodded.

"You have a girlfriend, you know." I reminded him. If he was trying it on with me whilst he was with Victoria, he could think again!

"I know" he added, still holding out the piece of paper. Reluctantly, I took it. Maybe accepting it would get me some answers?

"So…?"

"So…"

"So what? What do I need your number for if you're not cheating on Victoria?"

"It's complicated" he answered, looking around like he was afraid he might get caught.

"What is? What are you talking about? What are trying to achieve by giving me this?" I nearly yelled.

"I told you. It's complicated" he repeated.

"Ugh! What is?" What he said next stunned me.

"You've seen me before, haven't you? Before tonight. Which is impossible, because Victoria only invited me yesterday. Before tonight, we've never known each other. Or have we?"

"What are you talking about?" I whispered. He took a step closer, so close that I could see the breath in front of his face. His eyes were darker than I had registered – richer in colour, so deep they were like an abyss. Now he was whispering to me, his voice hushed low so only I could hear it…oh boy, it was so seductive!

"You know what I'm talking about. But I can't talk about it now. Not tonight. That's why you have my number. Call me soon. I need to talk to you about certain things."

And with that, he walked back inside, leaving me standing in the winter cold with the post-it note in my hand and a million questions running through my head.

What 'certain things'?


End file.
